


Oral Fixation

by thewicked



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, at a party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewicked/pseuds/thewicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman gets bored at a graduation party, and Peter may or may not be a little drunk.  </p><p>"Getting antsy?"</p><p>"Fuck you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oral Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, this hasn't been heavily edited, so I apologize beforehand for any grammatical mistakes and whatnot. But I hope you like it!

“Congrats Class of 2013!”  Ashley Valentine’s loud yell dissolves into giggling as one of the football players sweeps her off her feet, making her spill some of her champagne.  Peter looks away when they start kissing, pulling a quick face and looking down at his hands sitting awkwardly in his lap.  If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know why he’s here.  He feels out of place – he knows he was only invited out of pity for what happened to Letha.  Everyone’s stealing glances at him, but no one wants to talk to him, socially quarantining him as if he’s got some kind of disease.  Which, he does, in a way, but not like they’re thinking. 

He doesn’t know where Roman is, either.  They showed up together – Peter wasn’t even going to go when Roman pulled up in that stupid car of his, honking his horn incessantly until Peter finally gave up and left his spot in front of the TV.  But now Roman’s fucked off somewhere, probably upstairs with a girl or two, like the stupid _upir_ he is.  _Shee-it_ , Peter thinks, smiling slightly at the way Roman’s idiotic voice has wormed its way into his head.  He may or may not be a little drunk.

It’s five minutes later when he looks up to find Roman staring at him from across the room.  He still isn’t used to Roman’s new pallor, to the way he glows with some kind of phosphorescence in the party’s dim lighting.   Roman’s blue lips are pursed in a pout, his deadened eyes boring a hole into Peter’s head that makes Peter have to look away.  Fuck.

Then there’s a girl asking Peter to dance, tugging on his arm until he reluctantly stands up to get dragged into the middle of the room, where she gyrates in time to the swelling bass.  He shifts his weight from foot to foot in an excuse for swaying, unsure of himself, of what to do.  He isn’t even sure who this girl is – he thinks she may have been in his Chemistry class, but honestly, he can’t remember. 

As the music approaches its climax, she dips and twists around him, her hands snake around his hips, and he feels someone pressing up against him from behind.  He turns around, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off – it’s Roman, and he isn’t even looking at Peter.

“Fuck off!” Peter shouts, catching his smile before it has time to distort his face.

Roman doesn’t respond, just bends his neck until his face is nearly at the same level as Peter’s.  Their lips are suddenly really close, and Peter realizes that Roman’s are more of a deep fuchsia than blue.  They’re plump, too, and they’re opening, Roman’s hot, sticky breath fanning out across Peter’s face like a caress.  Peter feels the girl behind him pressing closer and her breasts flattening against his back, her hands travelling down his stomach in an attempt to catch his attention.  When Peter starts to turn around, Roman grabs his arm, forcing him to stay as he is.  They don’t say anything, but the look on Roman’s face is enough: _You’re mine_.

All sense of the girl behind him melts away as Roman winds his hands around Peter’s neck, pressing closer and closer, so close that Peter feels like he no longer has control over his own body.  The song changes, and the steady thrum of bass that starts up pulses through the two of their them in a way that melds them together until Peter isn’t sure where his body ends and Roman’s begins.  Peter leans his head back as the tempo increases, and Roman takes advantage of this, running his nose along Peter’s damp skin in a way that, under any other circumstances, Peter would consider pretty fucking weird.

Then the song’s changing again, and Peter feels like he can’t breathe.  Roman’s so close, everything’s so hot, the people around him are packed so tightly, and Peter can almost feel his lungs collapsing in on themselves.  He disentangles himself from Roman, ignoring his forceful protestations as he heads for the bathroom. 

He splashes water on his face, keeping his hands over the flushed cheeks as he listens to his still-thudding heart.  His head is spinning, and the running water makes him feel like he has to pee, so he goes over to the toilet just in case.  Of course, he’s just pulled his dick out when someone starts knocking.  Shit.

“It’s occupied!” he shouts, looking up at the ceiling for help.  He can feel the panic rising in his throat, that choking sensation paired with the tight clenching of his gut. 

“Relax, it’s just me.”

“Go away, Roman.”  With a frustrated sigh he zips his pants back up and shuts off the water.  Roman keeps mumbling some shit about sticking together now that school’s over, blah, blah, blah, whatever.  Peter studies his face in the mirror for a few more seconds before turning toward the door.  When he opens it, Roman’s face is right in front of his.  He frowns.  “Dude.  Give me some space.”

Roman just pushes him back into the small powder room, though, shutting the door behind them and crowding him against the sink.  Peter grips the counter for support as Roman continues pressing forward, their hips touching – their _crotches_ touching, fuck – as he leans in to catch Peter’s lips in a hungry kiss.

One of Peter’s legs kicks out involuntarily, and he hears the click of the lock before pulling away to ask, “W-what the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it fucking look like.”

Peter looks down, at Roman’s hands splayed out over his hips.  Roman’s already leaning in to continue the kiss, his open mouth millimeters from Peter’s.  Peter doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Roman’s lips are devouring his again, pulling and sucking and pushing while their combined saliva runs down Peter’s chin in a way he doesn’t find completely unappealing.  He hums a kind of confused question, but Roman ignores him, cupping his jaw and leaning further into the kiss, his hot breath flooding Peter’s mouth and filling his lungs like steam.  A low moan claws its way out of the back of Peter’s throat as Roman’s hands go to cup his ass, his legs opening in a display of want.

One of Roman’s hands goes to cup Peter’s crotch, massaging the swelling bulge until Peter emits a low whine of need that makes Roman break away to smirk down at Peter.  “Getting antsy?”

“Fuck you,” Peter pants, his eyes rolled up to the ceiling in a combination of pleasure and annoyance.

Roman chuckles, biting his lip as he focuses on undoing Peter’s fly.  His long fingers are deft, and the amount of time it takes before he’s massaging the base of Peter’s cock makes Peter wonder how many times he’s done this before. 

Peter has to suppress a groan as Roman lowers himself to his knees, looking up from under his lashes in a really whorish way that makes Peter’s own knees weak.  Peter’s pants and boxers are around his ankles before he has time to make sense of what’s happening, and he loses all sense of dignity when Roman licks slowly up his shaft and toward the glans, briefly enveloping the tip with his lips before letting go with a small _pop_. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Peter breathes, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

“That’s not my name,” Roman murmurs, eliciting another breathy _fuck you_ from Peter.  When he laughs, the spastic movement of air against Peter’s dick makes him have to grip the counter even more tightly. 

Roman starts down at the base again, kissing his way up Peter’s length and stopping every so often to suck on the sensitive skin.  He starts circling the tip with his tongue when he reaches the top, and one of Peter’s hands reaches out to grab a fistful of hair as he moans something incomprehensible.  He opens one of his eyes to find Roman tonguing the pre-cum already leaking out of his slit, instantly regretting it when the ache in his cock goes from uncomfortable to unbearable.  He thrusts a little, and Roman gives a chastising _tut-tut_.  Peter just leans his head back, hissing, “Just fucking do it all ready, fuck.”

“Patience, Fido,” Roman breathes, smiling when Peter makes a tighter fist in his hair.

Then he’s inhaling everything, bobbing and sucking and tonguing and stroking until the only thing keeping Peter from collapsing onto the floor is his dead-tight grip on the counter. 

“Jesus – _fuck_!”  Roman hums something in response, the vibration causing Peter’s cock to twitch. 

Peter’s brain short circuits when Roman starts playing with his ball sack, massaging and pulling and rolling his fingers so Peter’s eyes nearly roll back into his head.  His head spins as he feels his balls tighten, feels the heat pooling in his gut while everything inside him tenses, preparing –

“Fuck, I’m gonna–”

Peter gasps for air as his body gives a seismic shudder, ejaculating right into Roman’s mouth.

“ _Kuraf'te Dija_ ,” he mutters with his eyes shut tight.

His hand falls away from Roman’s head, and Roman wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at Peter from his spot on the floor.  “You okay?”

“You're an asshole,” Peter breathes, his eyes still closed as a faint smile twitches across his face.  

Roman just laughs.  When he stands up, Peter can see his arousal pressing up against the fly of his pants.  He presses close again, running his nose along the side of Peter’s neck.  “You wanna ditch?  This party’s lame enough to make me suicidal.”

Now it’s Peter’s turn to laugh, albeit weakly.  “Why not.”

“You’re gonna need time to recover, anyway,” Roman adds, smiling when Peter gives him an almost frightened look.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I just wanted to write something with Roman putting his blow job lips to good use


End file.
